Shattered bullet
by Alvazu
Summary: Tino was a sniper for the axis side, but after the war, he was found locked up in a cell by his military. According to some files, he was sent to Sweden to infiltrate a group of smugglers but later on got labeled as a traitor. Why did he turn his back against his own? Who is it he wants to protect. And what exactly happened in Sweden? Sorry for Shitty summery.


**Hello there.**

 **It's been quite some time since the last update/ story. Like, holy shiiiiit there has happened a lot in those months. Finals, graduation, class party week (so many absolutely waisted classmates XD), moving away from my parents, looking for a job and working.**

 **On that note, why the hell are the only jobs I can get cleaning jobs? XD**

 **Oh well, I'll see how much energy/ time I have to write now :)**

 **So may I present the first story of my Songverse. The Sufin perspective.**

 **In the meantime, I'll figure out the next perspective. Feel like doing Dennor, Usuk, or Gerita next. Decisions, decisions.**

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Late May. 1945, somewhere in Norway.

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The war had been over for a couple of weeks, and the celebration could still be felt in the people of the city.

People looked more open and relaxed. Some still burned their blackout curtains along with the propaganda posters that once decorated the city's buildings and other stuff that showed the Norwegian people had been under the German soldiers' thumb.

The paper and fabric were getting eaten up by the hot flames of multiple stakes that turned all the different materials to ashes. All the while members of the local resistance and those who joined as soon the danger was over walked from house to house to pick up people who had cooperated with the Germans during the occupation. When they found someone who they deemed a traitor to their country, they drove them away to a part of the city Tino couldn't see from the window of his hospital room.

He wondered if any of the resistance members would take him too if they knew what he had done. Even if the deeds had been done in a neighboring country, he would still be in a gray area on the moral specter.

Tino sighed loudly and continued to gaze out of the window, studying the surrounding area. Every tree, stone, and building, he could see would take his attention away from the small group of people in his room who wanted to ask him questions. Questions about how he ended up where they found him. Why he was left beaten, wounded, and all alone in a prison cell in an abandoned German military base. Probably also what he did on his military mission as a spy even though he was a sniper.

Tino had multiple broken ribs and a broken his right arm and hand that would take months to heal. He was covered in cuts and scars all over his body, all of them from his time on both sides of the war. The scar on the left side of his abdomen was the largest of them all. It was a few years old and was the result of him doing the right thing but ended with a panicked trip to a doctor.

He could see the files one of the soldiers was reading was his personal files. It probably had the word "traitor" written in big, red letters on every page, and all the valuable information about his missions blacked out. That didn't seem to stop the most peculiar looking man of the allied soldiers to try and read it, only interrupting his concentration to note something down from time to time.

Judging by their uniforms, Tino could see two of them were from the British army and the last one from the American.

The American, who sat in a chair at the foot of the bed along with one of the British soldiers, was dressed in light brown-sand colored clothing with a lieutenant mark. He was a young man in his early twenties, and he had small scars on the right side of his head, near the eye. He had sky blue eyes behind a pair of glasses and dark blond hair with one lock that stood up from the rest. He talked to the man sitting next to him in a quiet, friendly manner as if he was telling a secret.

Come to think of it, the way those two had acted throughout their time in the hospital room showed they were quite close, even if they belonged to different armies and ranks and had a bit of an age gap between them.

The British man wore a dark-green, captain uniform. He was about his mid- to late twenties, had light blond hair, huge dark eyebrows, and eyes that seemed to switch between grass green and emerald green. He sat in a manner that radiated authority, something his American associate didn't seem to pick up on. It was clear that the green-eyed man demanded answers, but the Finn just kept ignoring him.

The captain stared at Tino wonderingly, as if he tried to figure out how to make the wounded man talk, but the Finn kept being stubborn. This resulted in setting a translator to find answers in the, most likely, censored papers the group had found in the same base they had discovered the former enemy sniper.

It had been about a week since two of these three soldiers had found a barely conscious Tino and had brought him to the hospital, with the promise to visit him as soon he was healthy enough. The soldiers came every day since then, but not once had Tino said a word to his saviors. Even when the soldiers arrived with another army guy and tried to start a conversation with him yet again. Today they tried another tactic by bringing the military files on him.

 _"Maybe they hoped I would start talking if I saw them with my personal papers. Stupid strategy. Everything is written in either German or Finnish, so, good luck."_ Tino thought. Sure he wanted to explain why his own army kept him prisoner so he could leave faster. The problem was, now he had people he wanted to protect. How would he know they were safe if he began speaking? Hell. How would he know they were safe now? _"Please let them be alive..."_

The third soldier, an odd looking man, had used hours sitting in the corner of the room to work on his personal files. This man was also from the British military, but something about the man didn't say 'soldier'. He was something else. The man hadn't been in battle, but the way he acted showed he was somehow more marked by the war than any of his companions.

He moved almost mechanically as if he feared one wrong action would result in punishment. Besides the paperwork, the only thing he looked at was the floor, as to avoid eye contact at all costs. That was the first thing Tino noticed when the three soldiers entered the room. The one man's refusal to look up at him, or anywhere else for that matter.

The peculiar guy stood up from his chair and walked over to the two others who sat next to Tino's bed. He handed over the papers to the one in the British captain uniform and stood in a waiting position as he let his superior look over his work, eyes locked on the floor.

The captain nodded in a satisfied manner and looked back at Tino. "Are you sure about these translations, privet Beilschmidt?" the green-eyed man asked his subordinate, while he gave the American soldier the papers to read as well.

With a small, careful smirk on his lips, the soldier answered, "Well, German IS my mother tongue, so yes I'm sure about the outcome."

 _"He is German?"_ Tino thought confused. _"Wait a sec. Beilschmidt? Is he...? Nah. Can't be."_

Tino studied the white-haired man with the red eyes in the window's reflection. He looked to be around his mid to late twenties, just like the captain. A closer inspection revealed that his face was pretty bruised. He had scratches, a fading black eye, a busted lip. Tino wondered what had happened since this man was the only one out of those three who were injured.

The more he looked, the more he realized how much the white-haired man resembled the Beilschmidt he knew. But what were the odds?

The Brit noticed Tino's face in the window, but misread the intense, investigating look the bedridden Finn was sending the German soldier as an evil glare. "Privet Beilschmidt, I think it might be for the best if you leave the room," the captain said, in a careful tone of voice.

At that, the American's head shot up from the neatly written notes to look between the captain and the subordinate. The young soldier seemed surprised and slightly worried. He obviously hadn't expected that order, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't the one in command, the Brit was.

Privet Beilschmidt's shoulders sank in disappointment as he sighed. He nodded his head in understanding and made his way towards the door out of the hospital room. His eyes only looked up once to send the American a reassuring smile while he closed the door.

The American gave the Brit a doubting, almost angry glance. He did obviously not agree with the captain's decision to send the other soldier away. "Captain Kirkland, is this your way of helping? Because it seems like you are doing the same as-"

"Use your head, Lieutenant Jones," the captain annoyedly cut off, nodding his head towards Tino.

Lieutenant Jones took a second to study both of the people in the room with him before he sighed in surrender and waved with a hand as a signal to the green-eyed man that he could continue whatever he was doing.

Captain Kirkland rolled his shoulders and sat up straighter. Time for business. "Now, Mister Korhonen-"

"Väinämöinen," Tino interrupted.

This earned him shocked and worried glances from the two allied soldiers. Captain Kirkland looked back at lieutenant Jones for confirmation of what he just heard, but the American simply gave the Brit a confused shrug.

"... Okay?" captain Kirkland said uncertainly. _"He wants to go by his fake name?"_ the captain thought taken aback. "Mister Väinämöinen. We have some questions for you about the... predicament we found you in."

"No shit," Tino laughed dryly, still looking out the window. "Let me guess, you want to ask why my military would incarcerate me? One of their best snipers. Like you've done all week. Okay then."

Before the captain could react, lieutenant Jones began chuckling. "You set Gilbert to work on these documents for hours. But now it turns out the guy wants to spill everything? You've got to be kidding me."

"Hoped if I ignored you long enough, you would grow tired and leave me alone. Didn't think you would bring in a translator," Tino admitted. He was tired and drained in every way imaginable, even though he hadn't moved that much in days. "... Just wanna go home, but you guys insist on keeping me here. Just want to go back home."

Captain Kirkland gave the Finn a sympathetic look. His green eyes softened as a small smile graced his features. Pieces slowly got together. "Where is home for you? Who's side are you on?"

Tino sighed. _"Why do people keep asking me that?"_ he thought. Of course, he knew why, but he was sick of getting asked the same thing.

He looked at the floor for a bit, feeling a little annoyed. "You wanna know if I'm Axis or Ally? Fine. I'm neither."

The answer was simple, yet difficult to believe. After all, he began on the wrong side in this war but came out as a good guy. But if they would believe him, then maybe...

Tino sat up straighter, trying to mimic what captain Kirkland did. For the first time since that final day at the German camp, the Finn looked directly at the soldiers in front of him. The American had stopped reading the papers so he could listen in on the mostly one-sided conversation.

The captain waited patiently for Tino to begin explaining, but why did the American and Brit look so hopeful? Shouldn't they despise him? Tino was on some level their enemy after all.

Fuck it.

"Vi kommer inte låta tyranni ta mer liv vid vår tröskel."

.

 **If you are curious, then yes, I did use Google translate for that last part. Because it's Swedish. Our languages may be related but that's it.** **The weirdness gets too strong XD**

 **Anyway.**

 **Have a nice day. Bye :)**


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